Overload
by Dark Sadistic Angel
Summary: 1x2. Heero gets stressed out by his Preventers job and decides to go fishing. This stresses out every one else.


Overload

Comedy, 1x2.

Ever wished you had a bad habit

Ever wished you had a bad habit?

Heero did. It was times like these he really wished that he had taken up the bad health habit of smoking, or drinking, or damnit, even a minor habit of slouching over his laptop and groaning out his misery when being forced to endure yet another late night of mindless, boring work! But no! His training kept him into place. His back, despite the amount of hours that he had been sitting at his office desk, was perfectly ramrod straight, and not even a twitch betrayed his irritation at being again ordered by Lady Une to write a useless report that would never see the light of day.

He was starting to wonder whether his doctor, J, had replaced some of his body parts with Gundamium during his health checks. Maybe he should let Sally Po take a closer look at the way his body was constructed? The medical officer could possibly come up with some answers to the various lots of unexplainable things about his body that Heero too often wondered about. Granted, it was fantastic getting up and walking about from injuries that would have killed a person in a matter of weeks, especially in his line of work where he had to dodge bullets and all, plus the occasional explosions from bombs, but it was a little, well, scary that he could.

But then again, Sally Po was probably crazier than Doctor J in investigating how things work. He could just picture the mad gleam in her sharp blue eyes now. She was a wild one, that woman. Wufei would have a hard time keeping her in check. Actually, no. Wufei had no chance. It was clear the courtship going down at the head Preventer branch office was dominated by the blond, busty woman, not the last descent of the ancient Chinese warrior clan.

Hn. Multitasking on random, trivial affairs to keep his boredom at bay was pathetic. Exactly why was he writing reports all the time? Most of the reports he wrote were glanced over once by Une before she destroyed the confidential material during their conferences. He saw no reason why she demanded written reports considering a verbal report would be more resource saving on both time and paper. Not to mention high levels of carbon dioxide releases considering that Une had the habit of burning the material in the special fireplace she had going all the time in her office- regardless of the season, instead of using a paper shredder. And she wonders why all the agents seem to fear her as if she was the devil himself.

Except for few agents, like Wufei and him, who worked with her closely, most other agents were uncomfortable whenever she underwent several personality switches within a private meeting. It was probably because they were the least religious of all the agents in the agency, and did not believe in possession, or the like that the others were always speculating on, and perfectly understood that Une was dealing with stress in her own way. No. Wait. He could be wrong about Wufei. There had been some sort of spiritual sort seals he had found once stuck discretely in an area of Une's office that hidden from view that had complex Chinese characters over it, so maybe Wufei had some sort of religion? Well, whatever the reason he had for sticking the papers on the walls behind the furniture, it wasn't like he believed in the ridiculous rumours about Une that the majority did. Une had only a few mental problems, but they did not hinder her at all. Indeed, her personality switches allowed for considering a range of views and perspectives which expanse was humbling rich and varied.

Considering the huge misunderstanding people had with Une's quirks, he started to wonder whether there was a similar misunderstanding regarding himself. Was there a particular reason why he was always assigned reports? What did people think he was? A robot who liked writing reports? In between the excessive time he spent in the field and the Preventers Office, Heero was starting to think that perhaps people really did think him to be a robot, or God. But he was neither, as he was human, nor as crazy as Duo was. He who proclaimed himself to be the God of Death never ever got the workload Heero got.

It was, Heero thought grumpily, very unfair. They spent equal amount of time in the field, granted, and Duo did pull more than his fair share in their partnership there, but as soon as the paperwork came in, for some reason, despite them being partners, everyone seemed to expect him to come up with the report. Written, formatted, and nicely printed out on several clean sheets of computer paper. Despite his track record as a first class killer, he was probably responsible for more deaths of trees than human beings now. A thousand billion times more, perhaps.

It was a nasty position to be in, but someone had to do it.

But why did it had to be him all the time?

Feh. And Duo was always prodding him to get more of a life. Hmph. He didn't have the time to! It was like Duo didn't even know how many reports each field excursion out tallied up on their IOU bills to the reporting department. Adding in the special reports he had to send to Une to feed her paper fetish- or rather, her fireplace, he felt like the office postman, and it was not a fun feeling.

Perhaps, after he clicked the send button to pass out the final report for the night, that Heero finally decided enough was enough.

He was quitting the Preventers. They now had over a thousand capable agents in the force. Ten or fifteen of them could do his job adequately enough.

He was going to go fishing.

They were trying to be subtle about it, but, well, granted the numbers present, it was not hard to figure out why they were utterly failing at it. Heero was keeping his almost inhuman façade of unflinching perfection as he sat posed still on the edges of the pond, but it was hard. Having personally trained many of the men surrounding him, he was utterly disappointed to see that many of them making so many minor mistakes. He thought he had fixed the problems after he treated them to the special training session he designed. It appears that they had forgotten a great many lessons. Maybe he should not have let Quatre talk him out of volunteering to look the new arrivals over. Hn. That was right. He had quitted the Preventers. He needn't to bother with morons again.

He was now just a simple fisherman. On a rock. With a fishing rod.

Surrounded by over fifty men.

Hnnn.

He lowered down his rod.

A great many bushes and shrugs swayed as they crammed in to get a closer look at what he really was doing.

Hnnnnn.

Heero lifted up his rod.

Hnnnnnnn.

He lifted up his rod further.

Hn.

Heero looked up at the thrawping fish struggling at the end of his line. With a satisfied nod, he unhooked and tossed the fish into the half filled bucket by his side, before returning his line back to the pond. Within a space of thirty eight minutes, he had another three catches. Within forty minutes, he had his fishing gear packed. Within a space of fifty six minutes, he lost his audience.

All but one. But he didn't really expect Duo to be lost because of a simple diversion he had created. The man had apparently packed a gas mask and had not been knocked out when the sleeping gas bombs he had planted everywhere went off. Heero tilted his head and listened for the sound of Duo's movements. He heard nothing but a soft rustling which not even the birds picked up. Hn. Maybe Duo did inhale some of the gas. He wasn't usually this clumsy. Heero shrugged and removed his own gas mask.

He sat down in the hidden cave he had laid the groundwork for a fireplace earlier, and stuck a branch of wood in the ring of stones. By the time a familiar shadow darkened the entrance, he had a warm fire going. The smoke curled upwards and disappeared into an unseen space between the rocky cave roof and walls. He placed all four fishes he captured on sticks and stuck the ends into the ground, with the heads of the fish nearby the fire.

A sigh was heard.

'Look, Heero...'

Duo settled himself on the opposite side of Heero.

'....'

'You had your fun....'

'....'

'...but now it's time to get back to work.'

'....'

'Seriously Heero, if you wanted another pay rise, it would have been nicer of you if you simply asked for one.'

'....'

'Not that? Granted Une's been asking a lot of you lately....'

'....'

'...okay. Fine. I'm sorry about the reports, too. I should have helped too. But admit it, you really do like doing those reports. Hell, you're the one who's always stealing off with-'

'...!'

'Admit it.'

'....'

'Good. So what really is bothering you?'

'....'

'Geez, Heero. Stop with the Trowa imitation already. Tell it to me straight. I can only do this silent communication thing so far, and you know that. The Preventers wants you back. Hell, I want you back. So damnit Heero, tell me what you really want! Pulling these sorts of prim Madonna fits all the time and causing Une to - well, never mind Une- don't bottle up your feelings and say what you want! I'm not a psychic!'

'....'

'Spit it out already.'

'I want more nookie time. Work was cutting in our special time together.'

Duo blinked.

'Oh. Well, why you couldn't you say so last night?'

'Because you were asleep by the time I got back.'

'Heero! Then why didn't you tell me in the morning!?'

'You were out before me because you were called in, remember?'

'Oh. Yeah. But still! Heero! Did you have any idea what you put all of us through when you pulled this prank? Including Une's six hundred and sixty six's personality? Why can't you be straight?'

'Because I'm not.' He took two done fishes from the fire and handed them to Duo, before plucking out his own share. 'Eat fast, then I want sex.'

Duo gaped at him.

'Or you can forgo eating but I thought you might need the energy. We have a lot of time to make up for. The last mission was very long.'

Duo blinked. Then began quickly eating.

Heero concluded that he did, indeed, have a bad habit of resorting to extreme measures before considering more viable solutions. But like all bad habits, he could not help himself. When he was sexually frustrated, he couldn't care less about saving the world, okay?

Fin.


End file.
